


At Play

by bluemoodblue



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Nonverbal Communication, Playing, Post-Canon, Sparring, everything’s fine and everyone’s happy, ghost and hornet have a chance to have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoodblue/pseuds/bluemoodblue
Summary: "They're not trying to kill each other." She could see Hornet's shoulders shake with laughter that Iselda was too far to hear, and she watched as Hornet dashed at the little ghost, too quick for them to react. Another hit, and the ghost leaped into the air, too late to make a difference. "Look closer, they're only tapping each other. Blunts of the weapon only."
Comments: 9
Kudos: 203





	At Play

**Author's Note:**

> I love this game and I couldn’t stop myself for writing a little something for it. I’ve only gotten one ending though, so if anything is inconsistent I apologize! Just think of it as an au
> 
> (Also, I call the knight “little ghost” despite the tag)

"Is that... okay? That they're at each other's throats like that?"

Iselda glanced lazily over to where Cornifer was looking. The concern in his voice was genuine, but it was hard to care about much on a nice day like this, out in the sun after making the executive decision to close up shop early. The little one who bought every map Corny made was there, with the slightly-bigger one who followed them out of Hallownest. Hornet, Iselda thought her name was. She was pretty sure, anyway. "They seem fine to me."

"They're attacking each other," Corny insisted. There was the clang of a nail hitting something that looked more like a needle, and the two darted away from each other again. The noise almost had her husband completely on his feet, before slowly sitting back down again.

"They're sparring," Iselda corrected. _Children at play_ , she thought privately. _How long has it been since something like that happened in Dirtmouth?_

Their speed wasn't an even match. Even at a distance, Iselda could tell that Hornet was faster; she knew how to use her movements to her advantage, with nothing wasted. The little ghost was quick, though, retreating out of range before their proximity left them open to attack. Strategies learned of experience, Iselda knew, and she wondered again what sort of things were below them in the dark to necessitate such skills. She hadn't asked Cornifer, and she knew he wouldn't tell her until she did. He hated to make her worry.

Hornet dove directly at the little ghost. It looked like a direct hit, until they dashed to the side a second before impact and swung their nail back towards her. They landed a hit and skipped out of range immediately. Corny flinched harshly at the exchange. "Doesn't it seem a little bit more like they're trying to kill each other? It looks a little bit like they're trying to kill each other, to me."

"They're not trying to kill each other." She could see Hornet's shoulders shake with laughter that Iselda was too far to hear, and she watched as Hornet dashed at the little ghost, too quick for them to react. Another hit, and the ghost leaped into the air, too late to make a difference. "Look closer, they're only tapping each other. Blunts of the weapon only."

Corny shuddered. "I love you, darling, but I don't think there's anything that could tempt me to watch this with closer attention." Iselda smiled. Her husband never did have the stomach for fighting, and as much as he admired her skill with a weapon, she could always see the relief on his face when it was over and she hadn't been left horribly wounded. He winced again, apparently equally unable to look away, and Iselda turned her attention back to the pretend battle.

There was a stretch of empty road between the two of them, and they'd both paused to assess the distance. Making a run for it could put them in range for a hit, and there was no sneaking by unnoticed when they were staring at each other like that. It was a standoff, but only for a moment; an instant later, Hornet lifted her nail and flung it towards the little ghost like a spear, still connected to her by a thin thread. The ghost didn't hesitate; they leaped into the air just in time to avoid the attack, and Iselda expected them to land once the needle was withdrawn. They surprised her, though - wings she didn't know they had burst from their back, giving them an extra beat in the air to follow the needle back to Hornet and land another hit.

"I don't suppose you ever found out where the little ghost was from?" she asked, just a little breathlessly. Cornifer shook his head, equally stunned. Hornet, to her credit, was completely unsurprised and swiped after them; it was only a narrow miss, and they dashed back farther to put space between them again.

Nobody asked the little bug many questions, in part because they never spoke. The assumption had long been that they wouldn't get any answers even if they tried. Iselda remembered the tone of awe Corny sometimes had, when telling her where the little ghost had found him that time, every instance equally unlikely. They were a surprisingly resilient little thing - or maybe she had just underestimated them.

The sparring went on long into the afternoon, long enough that Cornifer didn't look like he was on the brink of running in to help every two minutes and Iselda had plenty of time to observe. Hornet and the ghost chased each other through the streets, jumped off of the walls of buildings up and down, past the couple in one direction or back the other way or, in one memorable moment, leaping right over their heads. The two of them might have been dancing, she thought eventually, drowsy in the sunlight and feeling poetic. There was a rhythm to a good fight, a give and take, a call and answer. She'd always thought that was the fun of it, not the power or bragging rights - it was when you knew another person well enough that you could guess their next move, that the steps became a natural progression. Hornet's laughter echoed from the walls of the town, and Iselda heard her mutter a "oh you little stinging fly, you're going to get it now" when she paused for breath nearby, and Iselda smiled quietly. A dance, of a kind. And play, definitely, for the ones who grew up in a world where they couldn't afford not to take up a nail.

The afternoon was cooler by the time the two of them called a truce, Hornet the victor this time. They were both breathing heavily, but they looked happy; Hornet patted the little bug gently on the head before trotting off to parts unknown. Iselda, moments before opening the shop door to settle accounts for the day, paused to look at them. They looked back up at her, head cocked to the side with an expectation, while she thought for just a moment about assumptions. "You like sparring, don't you?"

The little ghost nodded.

"What about it do you like so much?" Corny had paused on the other side of her, watching for the answer just as closely.

There was no hesitation. The little ghost pointed back the way Hornet went, and then patted their cheeks a couple of times.

Iselda grinned. "That's a good reason."

Cornifer, curious, leaned closer. "What'd they tell you," he asked, just a little too loudly for his whisper to really count as a whisper, and Iselda elbowed him in the stomach before pushing him inside. She returned the little ghost's wave just before closing the door.

"They like that it makes their sister laugh," Iselda told Cornifer later as she locked up the shop. "Always a good reason to play."

**Author's Note:**

> I just! Want them to be happy! Is that so much to ask!


End file.
